


unfold

by aeicx



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, One-Shot, your #1 cliche love story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 13:50:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6053953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeicx/pseuds/aeicx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Warren sees Kate at the library, it’s four-thirty after school on a Tuesday in November, and she’s poring over Voltaire's Candide while swinging her legs under the table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	unfold

**Author's Note:**

> I got a couple requests on tumblr for a Kate/Warren fic. I got a bit carried away with writing it, but here it is! Hope you guys enjoy.

 

The first time Warren sees Kate at the library, it’s four-thirty after school on a Tuesday in November, and she’s poring over Voltaire's  _Candide_  while swinging her legs under the table.

 

“Wouldn’t this be considered religious blasphemy?” Warren says, looking over her shoulder.

 

Kate jumps, as does he. “Warren!” she whispers. She slams the book shut, too, for good measure.

 

Warren puts his hands out in surrender. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, weakly. “Didn’t mean to make you freak.”

 

Kate slowly opens her book. “I was just trying to catch up on the reading for Thursday.”

 

“For European Literary Studies?”

 

“Mm-hm.”

 

Warren sets his books down next to her. “Guess I’ll join you, then. And I won’t make any noise,” he adds, hastily.

 

He has to meet with Ms. Grant in an hour. He might as well do something to pass the time.

 

* * *

 

Ever since he’s first seen Kate reading in the library, Warren’s visited the same table about three times after his classes have ended.

 

“Look, I get the appeal of classical literature. It’s theoretical and makes your head spin, and you get bragging rights after you finish the book, but you could _also_ ,” Warren says, holding up a finger, as in _wait, let me get this out real quick,_ “You could also indulge in some standard post-apocalyptic science fiction. Behold: _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?_ ”

 

Kate chuckles, flipping through a classic— _Anne of Green Gables_. “I’ve already read that one.”

 

“What?” Warren says. He’s shocked; he’d never have guessed Kate to take interest in science fiction. “Aw, man. Are you serious?”

 

“Yes. It was a nice read. Long-winded, but quick and fun.” Kate smiles. “Not as good as Harry Potter, though.” She looks at the stack of books piled high next to Warren— _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_ stands wedged in between _A Feast for Crows_ and _Lord of the Rings._

 

“I bet you’ve read the entire Bible, too,” Warren says.

 

Kate laughs.

 

* * *

 

Warren’s talked to Kate plenty of times since the start of school, but he’s never gotten to know her _this_ much. As his visits grow more frequent, he learns that she likes classical and fantasy-themed literature, and that she usually gets up at seven in the morning to practice playing her violin. He learns that her favorite color is baby blue and that she likes listening to Yiruma while she draws, and that she always carries a small Bible around in her bag.

 

There’s more, though. He learns that she gets a lot of shit for her abstinence campaign, and that while her parents are proud of her, she’ll still get nasty messages taped to her locker a bit more often than once a week. He knows that she crumples them and tosses them into the bin without looking twice, and shows up to school every morning with fifteen minutes to spare before class starts. He knows that she’s friends with Max, and that sometimes, he’ll catch them walking together in between classes, laughing and talking about god knows what.

 

He knows that she has a pet rabbit, but what he doesn’t know is whether or not she’ll rat him out for wandering around with an animal of his own.

 

“What in the world are you—mmph!” Warren practically tackles her into the corner, driving them both into the bathroom in the girl’s dormitory one evening. She’s dressed in blue shorts and a t-shirt with little ducks scattered all over the sleeves.

 

“Warren! What are you doing?” Kate hisses. Warren’s hiding behind the door, occasionally peeking out, until he’s sure that the hallway’s cleared.

 

“This is the girl’s dorm, you can’t be here!”

 

Warren shushes her and she opens her mouth, shutting it quickly and making an indignant noise at the back of her throat.

 

Seconds, minutes pass.

 

“I’m going to bed,” Kate says, shortly, but Warren suddenly grabs her wrist and looks at her, panicking. “No, wait!”

 

“What?”

 

“I need you to help me sneak my cat into my dorm.”

 

Kate looks incredulous. “Your cat? I—oh.”

 

Sure enough, a small _meow_ comes from the blue plastic carrier in his hand. Kate stares at it, as though she’s just noticed its presence—Warren looks at it, too, then back at Kate, switching back and forth fervently as though to say, _see?_

 

“You’re perfectly capable of doing that yourself, Warren,” Kate says, a little softer this time. The animal must have caught her interest. She shakes her head. “Why are you in the girl’s dorm? You could get in so much trouble for this.”

 

“Because,” Warren says. He sinks to the floor, resting his back against the door and setting the carrier down next to him. “Because.” He groans, rubbing his face with his hands.

 

“Because what?”

 

“I was trying to sneak her in. Melody. You’re not allowed to, you know,” he says, jutting his hands in the air in an ungainly sort of shudder, as though to demonstrate his frustration. “You can’t keep cats or dogs in your dorm. But my sisters came around to visit after school today, and right before they left, they just—they fucking—they left her here with me! Just, like, ‘She’s your problem now.’ All because they’re going off on a vacation and forgot to ask my aunt to take care of her, like she always does."

 

A low rumble starts to come from the carrier. Warren's gestures become increasingly frantic.

 

“And I can’t leave her on the street, she’s my cat. I can’t do that. I just need to keep her at my dorm for a week, until they come back.” Warren sighs. Kate’s watching him in what looks alarmingly like motherly disapproval, like she’s just caught a third-grader stealing candy, or cheating off of his classmate. “I was trying to get back to my dorm, but by then it was kind of late, and I saw Madsen walking around with his stupid flashlight. He was already heading into the boy’s dorm. If he saw me with Melody, he’d take her away. Or something. And I couldn’t stay outside, there was another guy already walking around, too. So I ran. In here,” Warren says, and he’s pleading now, looking at Kate with desperation in his eyes. “I just need you to help me sneak her in by distracting Madsen. Just one week, she’ll be here. That’s all. I’m serious. And you won’t have to get involved in any more of my shit, I promise.”

 

Kate glares at him for a few more seconds, until she finally uncrosses her arms and sighs. “Fine,” she says, exasperated. “Just this once.”

 

“Thank you so, so, so much, Kate,” Warren says. “God, you’re like my savior. God bless, or whatever.”

 

“Don’t think too much of it,” Kate says, before opening the bathroom door.

 

* * *

 

The boy’s dorm takes up all of the second floor. The entrance is guarded by David Madsen, and the girl’s entrance is likewise guarded by another. So, naturally, Warren hides behind the girl’s dorm door as Kate pops her head out, takes a deep breath, and screams.

 

Madsen, while situated a ways away from her dorm entrance, is the more paranoid one, and so it’s only ever expected of him to come bursting through the doors even before the guard on the first floor does. Either way, both of them arrive at the scene and sprint for Kate, who’s now standing conveniently close to the other end of the hallway.

 

Warren uses the opportunity to slip through the closing doors and up to the second floor. He thinks he hears something along the lines of, “There’s someone in the bathroom!”, but he’s not entirely sure.

 

* * *

 

“Thank you,” Warren says. “Really.” Kate huffs.

 

“They spent a good five seconds searching that bathroom. For how paranoid Madsen is, he did a good job of brushing off that one,” she says, and Warren grins.

 

“Not so much trouble in the end, huh? Feeling adventurous now? You know, I actually have a hamster back at home—“

 

He dodges the tea bag that she chucks at his chest, laughing.

 

* * *

 

“Warren!”

 

“Gah!” Warren nearly drops his test tube. Thankfully, he’s acquired admiringly quick reflexes in the last few months he’s spent at Blackwell—he’s ended way too many chemistry labs with the school bell ringing right above his head. He silently resolves to claim the seat on the opposite side of the room, starting next quarter.

 

Max is standing in front of his table. She’s never yelled at him like that before.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Why?” Warren wrinkles his nose.

 

“I’ve been calling your name for the last—oh, I don’t know—ten times or so.”

 

“Oh.” He’d been so wrapped up in administering just the right number of drops of sodium chloride into his flask, he hadn’t noticed. “Sorry. What’s up?”

 

Max retrieves a book from her bag, passing it to him. He takes it; the cover reads _Out of the Dust._

 

“You want me to read this?” he says, peering at the girl on the front. The photo of the child is in black and white. The girl’s expression is, as usual, unreadable. He’s always found the cover to be a little creepy. “What am I, twelve?”

 

Flashback to seventh grade. If ever he reads one more goddamn sentence about Billie Jo Kelby’s dream piano again, he might just implode.

 

“It’s for Kate. She was going to lend me a copy of The October Country, but she accidentally stuck this in my locker.” Oh. That explains it.

 

“Why are you giving it to me?” Warren asks. Max looks puzzled. “Well, since you’re seeing her today, aren’t you?”

 

It’s to be determined, Warren’s tempted to say, but he knows that’s not true. Of course they’re going to see each other.

 

Warren takes the book. “I’ll let her know."

 

* * *

 

By the end of November, they receive their class schedules for the winter quarter.

 

They compare. There are no classes to work with, however, and there’s a nearly indiscernible slump in Warren’s shoulders. Kate pats his back reassuringly.

 

“Maybe next quarter,” she says, but it comes out as more of a question than a statement.

 

* * *

 

They spend their days taking walks and sitting next to the fireplace in the library, as snow piles on the windowsills outside. They argue over whether peppermint or chamomile tea is better, and they both agree that Severus Snape was never all that cut out for what the readers made him to be.

 

“Complete jackass. I felt kind of bad for Neville,” Warren says. He takes a sip of his peppermint, recoiling and gasping once he accidentally burns his tongue.

 

Kate titters, and he wrinkles his brow. “Har, har. I’m surprised you haven’t scalded yourself once. This stuff is hot.”

 

“I have. Multiple times, actually. I’m just better at hiding it.”

 

Warren makes a face. Kate returns the look and smiles, hiding behind the rim of her teacup.

 

“He was so entitled, too. He carried his grudge against Lily all the way down to Harry.”

 

“What? No, not Lily. He was so nice to her. He hated James. Not Lily. She was kind of a bitch.”

 

Kate gives him a funny look. “Lily? Why? Because she refused to give him another chance?”

 

“Well, yeah. I mean, she just left him there, you know? She was surrounded by jerks. James was an asshole, and she knew it. But she was still all over him. Snape hadn’t even done anything in comparison.”

 

Kate sets her tea down. “Do you think she owed him?”

 

“Who? Snape?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Yeah, sort of."

 

“Mm.” Kate passes off with a noncommittal hum, and pauses for a moment, before speaking.

 

“Making fun of someone for their roots is a pretty mean thing to do,” she says, slowly, “but having the mental construction that someone should owe you their affections for whatever reason is pretty bad, too.” She looks him in the eye, pointedly. “Especially if it’s with women.”

 

Warren thinks of Max, and of his reaction after he’d found out that she’d been dating Chloe. His disgruntled attitude, his cold responses to her texts for the next few weeks.

 

He thinks of Kate, speaking to Max regularly in between classes during those weeks, exchanging books and keeping each other company—far more often than he’d usually seen, before he’d grown distant.

 

“Oh,” he says, and Kate takes a sip of her tea again, looking out the window.

 

* * *

 

Some days, they’ll walk outside, feet tracing circles in the snow before Warren suggests that they go to Two Whales for lunch.

 

“Okay,” Kate says. Her cheeks are rosy, the tip of her nose pink. She’s bundled in a thick yellow scarf, wrapped in a grey coat, and Warren’s stomach feels like it’s not quite holding together.

 

* * *

 

Kate sets Warren’s pen down, next to his elbow. When he looks up at her, she looks a little concerned, and he frowns.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Your forehead’s red,” she says, gesturing to her own. Warren sighs. He’s been sitting in the same pose for the past hour—forehead resting against his palm, fingers twirling his pencil.

 

“Stressed?”

 

Warren groans.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

 

Kate slides into the seat opposite Warren, smiling softly. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. And there’s a makeup test in the case that you get a certain score, isn't there?”

 

She sets a hand on his shoulder and rubs it, gently. He stares at it for a moment before looking back up. “I believe in you. If you do well, I’ll buy you lunch tomorrow. How about that?”

 

* * *

 

Warren breezes through each and every problem on his advanced calculus test, with twenty minutes left to check his answers. He races to the library after his classes end, grinning, and sets his bag down on the table. Waiting.

 

Kate doesn’t show up.

 

* * *

 

Frustration quickly morphs into concern, because Kate’s been missing from school for two days now.

 

She's never missed her classes. Ever.

 

When he asks Max if she’s seen Kate, she bites her lip before saying that no, she hasn’t.

 

* * *

 

Warren’s walking along the sidewalk when he hears Chloe.

 

“Hey, Graham!”

 

She’s in her truck, rolling down the other window before she stops the vehicle.

 

“What’s with the long face?” she says. Her arm’s thrown over the back of the passenger seat. How is she so relaxed? “B on your report card? Fallout with the mistress?”

 

“Mistress?” Warren repeats.

 

“Oh, sorry,” Chloe sniffs. “What’s a better term to use? Your girlfriend _.”_

 

“Kate’s not my girlfriend,” he says, flushing, but Chloe’s already smirking. “Should be, if you assume that’s who I’m talking about.”

 

“She’s not even here,” Warren says. He’s sullen, a little bitter. “She’s missed school for the past four days.” No text or call, either, he wants to add, but he chews his tongue and keeps quiet.

 

“Whoa, hold up,” Chloe says, holding up a hand. “Hang on. Kate? We’re still talking about Kate Marsh, right?”

 

“You tell me.” Sarcasm seeps through his tone. He’s really not in the mood for this.

 

Chloe sits there for a second, staring at him. She looks thoughtfull. “I see,” she replies. “Well, I should get going. Gotta go pick up my date.”

 

She turns the truck around, and Warren checks his phone.

 

No new messages.

 

Maybe his screen’s just broken.

 

* * *

 

When Kate finally, finally shows up to school, Warren is ridiculously relieved.

 

“Hey!” he exclaims. He puts his hand on the back of her shoulder, and she jolts. He thinks about how he’s liked to surprise her from behind whenever they meet, much like how he’d first approached her in the library; this time, though, Kate looks unnerved. Her eyes flit back and forth in apprehension.

 

She looks pale.

 

“Where have you been? I sent you a million texts this week. Is everything okay?”

 

Kate just looks at him. “Oh.” Her voice is hushed, like someone might be listening.

 

Warren sees how she’s hugging her books tighter to her frame, and suddenly Kate looks very, very small, and very, very uncomfortable.

 

“Hey,” Warren says again. His tone is soft. “What’s wrong?”

 

Kate ducks her head, swinging it slowly from left to right.

 

When she looks up at him, her eyes are brimming with tears.

 

* * *

 

There’s a circular partition, consisting of students and smartphones, that surrounds him as he drives Nathan Prescott into the lockers next to the art room.

 

“Fucking bastard!” Warren shouts, and there’s red in his vision and he can’t see straight.

 

“Get off me, dude!” Nathan tries to pry Warren’s hand from the collar of his shirt.

 

One girl drops her cell phone halfway through her recording. It slides across the floor and next to Nathan’s feet.

 

When Warren throws the first punch, his knuckles collide with Nathan’s cheek—once, twice, three times. Nathan shoves him back, spitting blood, and tackles him to the floor. A divide forms amidst the sea of onlookers to make way.

 

“You asshole,” Warren hisses. “What did she ever do to you?”

 

“What the fuck are you talking about?!”

 

“What the fuck am I talking about?  _You fucking drugged her, you idiot!"_

 

“How’s this feel, huh?” Warren yanks back Nathan’s arm at an awkward angle, and Nathan yelps in pain. “How does it feel, motherfucker? Maybe you’ll learn to think twice before—“

 

“Stop!”

 

Max emerges from the crowd and seizes Warren’s shoulders. He jerks away. When he looks back, he sees Kate—eyes red and puffy, hand covering her mouth in shock.

 

“Warren, stop!” Max pleads. She’s pulling at the back of his collar and trying, trying, but he’s resisting and it’s all fists and blood and bruises. It takes one security guard and two other girls to tug him off before hauling him into the principal’s office.

 

* * *

 

“Ow.” Warren flinches. The bruise on his jaw is still a red blotch, as is the skin surrounding the cut on his cheek.

 

“Sorry,” Kate says. “All done.” She tosses the alcohol swab into the bin next to the nurse’s desk, staggering a bit through her walk back to the bed. Probably still shaken from the fight, Warren thinks. She fidgets with the wrapping on the Band-Aid before peeling it apart.

 

“I’m, um. I’m sorry. For putting all that attention on you,” Warren says. “I should have just beat the crap out of him without saying anything. He would have known why he was getting his ass kicked, anyway.”

 

Kate leans forward and sticks the bandage on the cut, gently. “It’s okay. Thank you,” she says, and Warren looks at her. “For sticking up for me.”

 

“Yeah,” he says. He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. He got what he deserved.”

 

* * *

 

To Warren’s immense rage, Nathan is not suspended nor reprimanded. There is no distinct consequence to account for his actions. There is, apparently, “no substantial evidence”.

 

He could scream.

 

Kate places a hand over his. “I’m angry, too,” she admits. “Max—Max said she was looking into it. But he’ll pay for what he did. I know it.”

 

He wants to believe her.

 

* * *

 

Warren shows up at Kate’s dorm room with Max, holding flowers and cookies and a couple of tea bags.

 

“Chamomile,” he says, grinning.

 

They spend a good portion of the day together.

 

* * *

 

Warren helps Kate catch up on her chemistry homework and prints out some equations for a handmade reference sheet. He slips the paper in her notebook.

 

Kate comes out from Ms. Grant’s classroom, beaming. She gets an A- on her test.

 

* * *

 

When the snow starts to melt, they talk next to the fountain out in the front of the school. It’s cold and the trees are still barren, but the sun shines through the clouds, and Warren can barely see his breath when he sighs.

 

Kate walks around the brick wall surrounding the fountain. She stands high, shoulders thrown back, a foot taller than Warren.

 

“How’s the air down there?”

 

Warren laughs. “Careful,” he says, and she wobbles a bit, leaning to the left and reaching out. He takes her hand and guides her around the fountain, slowly.

 

Tendrils of hair cling to Kate’s cheeks. Her lips are stained red, her bangs are brushed to the right. She catches his eye and, just as quickly, looks back down, watching her feet.

 

“Did you finish reading Frankenstein?” she asks.

 

“Not yet. I feel really bad for him, though. Definitely not the story I was expecting,” he admits. “Shelley actually started writing it when she was eighteen, did you know that? ”

 

He can hear the birds chirping.

 

Kate jumps back down to the pavement. She’s closer than he expected. Breathless.

 

“I didn’t.”

 

He could kiss her, right now.

 

Kate moves first.

 

When their lips touch, he’s holding her face and she’s soft and firm and gentle and she’s Kate, just Kate. She is warmth next to the crackling fireplace, the steam rising from a tea cup. He bears witness to all of her little eye rolls and tears, her composure and wisdom, the unfettered thrill in her eyes when they speak. He’s holding on for dear life and just feeling her against him, and his heart is beating so fast that he fears it might explode.

 

It’s a simple kiss, slow and steady.

 

It’s everything he’s ever wanted.

 


End file.
